That's a Mighty Big Sur Ya Got There

Mo(ma) Play for the Lay

I don't live in NY, but if Southwest finally issued the free ticket I've so diligently earned, I'd go.

The Future

When I finally arrive there—

and it will take many days and nights—

I would like to believe others will be waiting

and might even want to know how it was.

So I will reminisce about a particular sky

or a woman in a white bathrobe

or the time I visited a narrow strait

where a famous naval battle had taken place.

Then I will spread out on a table

a large map of my world

and explain to the people of the future

in their pale garments what it was like—

how mountains rose between the valleys

and this was called geography,

how boats loaded with cargo plied the rivers

and this was known as commerce,

how the people from this pink area

crossed over into this light-green area

and set fires and killed whoever they found

and this was called history—

and they will listen, mild-eyed and silent,

as more of them arrive to join the circle

like ripples moving toward,

not away from, a stone tossed into a pond.

-- Billy Collins

A Measuring Worm

This yellow striped green

Caterpillar, climbing up

The steep window screen

Constantly (for a lack

of a full set of legs) keeps

Humping up his back.

It's as if he sent

By a sort of semaphore

Dark omegas meant

To warn of Last Things.

Although he doesn't know it,

he will soon have wings,

And I too don't know,

toward what undreamt condition,

Inch by inch I go.

-- Richard Wilbur

The Importance of Being Haeckel

A couple weekends ago, my roommate and I wheeled up and down the sweepingly gorgeous California coastline, from Monterey to Big Sur. Highlight of the trip (besides the pleasantly mish-mashed condos of Carmel) was the (gasp and gargle!) Monterey Aquarium. Admission was extra pricey, and neither the touch pool nor the gift shop postcard selectionlived up to the bill. The jellyfish display, on the other hand, was beeeeautiful. Live jellyfish mixed with some impressive art ... 

Ernest Haeckel, nature illustrator extraordinaire and his jellyfish portraits:

Artichoke Your Heart Out

Me, 8-years-old: Artichokes? Nope. Smells like fertilizer.

Me, 19-years-old: What? Eat fifty thousand leaves and still be hungry? Don't have the time, don't have the time, don't have the time...

Me, 23-years-old: Food of the Gods.

Celebration From Above, 2008

Featured picture on nytimes.com.

Colors of Copenhagen

Pulled these from LaTartine's Copenhagen blog entry a few months ago but am drawn back to it occasionally, ala the little green aliens in Toy Story mesmerized by The Claw (''Oooooooooooo''). How do you handle colors like that?

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The Science Times: I get it every Sunday and inevitably, it ends up in the ''to read'' pile of my room for months to come. Damnit. I did catch this science article online this morning, mid-oatmeal chowdown. Amazing feat of synthesizing biological-building blocks aside, most striking part of the article: "“My view is that we know less than 1 percent of what’s out there in the biological universe,” Dr. Venter said." A good reminder when you think you know everything that you DON'T.

... it keeps the wolf of insignificance at the door...

"Every man needs his memories..." but lately the matter of memories is what's the matter. Simply: My brain has lost it's stick, that lint-brush adhesive that rolls over the lovely details of the day to day and collects them for later reflection. Isn't this years before my time? At 23, I struggle to anneal together pieces of my life - the newspaper article I read this morning, yesterday afternoon's conversations, details of my friends' lives -- into a satisfyingly vivid narrative. It's crushingly persistent, how this content eludes me. 

And so. This blog is an exercise in documenting, archiving, outsourcing my memory, an aide to gathering and preserving the bits I love or find interesting.